


Salvation

by ohgodmyeyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Anakin Skywalker Loves His Wife, Desperation, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional Manipulation, Lies, M/M, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, One Shot, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: Anakin goes to Chancellor Palpatine for help saving his wife. Unbeknownst to him, all the old man wants is for his future apprentice to practice getting down on his knees.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Sheev Palpatine
Comments: 27
Kudos: 61





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruskarmelita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruskarmelita/gifts).



> This takes place during ROTS, sometime before Mace goes out the window— so, Palpy doesn't look like he's ten million years old quite yet (not, of course, that it makes the premise any less awful). 
> 
> Dedicated to the lovely, kind, and very talented person who inspired it. The strange (and incredibly abusive) relationship between Anakin and Palpatine is, indeed, a wonderful way to explore them both! Thanks for taking a closer look at them with me. ❤️

"You're a good boy, Anakin— _such a good boy."_

Chancellor Palpatine was sitting on a comfortable chair in a room not far from his office, in the palatial suite which had been appointed to him upon taking control of the Senate. One of his hands was tangled up in the honey-coloured tresses of his favourite young Jedi, while the other was not-so-discreetly tucked beneath the deep red fabric of his own flowing robes. The Chancellor had always appreciated the formality inherent in the attire of the political elite of his own home planet of Naboo: He liked the gravitas leant to him by the rich colours and ostentatious tailoring, and the way the ensembles often seemed to aid him in taking command of a room.

Right now he was certainly in command of _this_ room, although given both its location and the company in which he found himself, that was hardly a challenge— for either him or his clothes.

 _"Chancellor,"_ pleaded Anakin, followed by nothing. He was on his knees before the former Senator, but unlike Palpatine, he was dressed neither in flowing robes nor in his own Jedi tunic of which he had become quite fond over the years. Anakin was wearing nothing but his boots right now, because he'd been ordered to undress immediately upon entering the chamber.

"Tell me about your wife, young one," requested Palpatine, with an air of kindness whose insincerity Anakin would never have been able to detect. He was a smart boy, but when someone showed him even so much as a modicum of tenderness, he tended to lose his ability to be discerning. Being treated well meant a lot to him, because he had too often experienced first-hand the consequences of the enormous cruelty to which humans and others were frequently predisposed.

Palpatine, of course, had always been very gentle with Anakin.

"She's going to die," he answered. "She's going to die, but I can't live without her." His voice was quiet; he near-rasped his words. He didn't entirely understand what was happening right now: In spite of being a man of more than twenty, Anakin was hopelessly naive when it came to matters of sexuality. The Order had seen to that with its various restrictions and taboos; besides, he'd only ever had eyes for his wife, with whom he rarely got to spend time alone. She had been the one to teach him just about everything he knew with regard to physical intimacy, and up until now that was all he thought he'd ever need to know. 

"You just want her to be safe," suggested the Chancellor, stroking himself half-discreetly beneath his robes as he continued to toy with Anakin's hair. "You understand that I _can_ help you keep her that way, don't you?" 

"Yes— yes, that's why I came here. I'll do anything for her, and anything for you, too, if you can keep this from happening." He couldn't go through it again; what had happened to his mother was enough. He knew that if he couldn't save Padmé's life, he would have nothing and no one to carry on living for. He hadn't trusted Obi-wan for a long time; not completely, anyway— and the rest of the Jedi frequently seemed to actively disdain him. He'd never fit into their moulds, nor had he ever been made to feel truly capable of living up to their ideals. Oftentimes he loved his work; however, at others, he simply felt lost. 

His wife gave him purpose— someone to belong to; someone, conversely, to hold. Anakin's arms had always felt painfully empty to him. He'd thought himself on the verge of being able to fill them with a loving family, but now it seemed that his chance at that was under threat of being ripped away. He couldn't let it happen; indeed, he _refused_ to let it happen.

That might have been why he had hardly so much as balked at the notion of disrobing for the Chancellor.

"Don't fret, Anakin— she need not die at the hands of whatever invisible threat is plaguing your dreams. You know who I really am now, and who I really am is somebody who can help." 

That was more, Palpatine thought, than what could be said for the Jedi— they didn't even know of young Skywalker's marriage; if they did, they'd most certainly have expelled him from their ranks rather than help him. How they had the audacity to call themselves a force for good the Chancellor would never understand; however, he supposed that if they'd been more helpful, he wouldn't be so close to having their most powerful member's full potential at his disposal.

His potential, and his body.

With the widest and most sorrowful eyes anyone had ever seen, Anakin stared up at his benefactor. It felt to him as though he'd been crying for days; every time he tried to sleep, Padmé's face, twisted up in pain, would torture him. She was kind and beautiful, and everything he ever could have hoped for in a partner. She'd taken care of him ever since he could remember; even when she hadn't been with him (even before they had reunited prior to their marriage), thoughts of her had often been the only thing to keep him sane. He needed her; he'd always needed her, and he knew he always would.

"What can I do, then?" he asked, his voice breaking with an anguish he couldn't conceal. He was cold; he was _always_ cold on Coruscant (except, of course, for when he was in bed with his wife), and stripping down to his boots certainly hadn't helped with that. His fear was making him sweat, but the cool air on his bare skin gave him goosebumps. He had no way of knowing how much the Chancellor loved the sight of him like this; no way of understanding just how far the appearance of his lithe, smooth, young form was going toward arousing him. Anakin, in fact, had barely even thought about just what the old man was doing with his hand underneath those ornate robes of his.

Anakin was only thinking about how to save his wife.

"There are many things one can accomplish with the assistance of the forbidden powers of the Dark Side," Palpatine answered. "They can make death seem insignificant, and pain dissolve. _However,_ a Master must always be sure to cement his bond with his potential Apprentice before the education can truly begin." He shifted in his seat; he'd grown almost painfully hard beneath those flowing crimson swaths by now, between the attention of his own hand and the appearance of the naked Jedi before him. He gave the boy's lovely hair a tug, both to ensure his rapt focus, and because he knew very well that he would receive no objection to having done so— not now, anyway.

Anakin swallowed hard at the lump in his throat that hadn't gone away since those visions of his wife had started to vex him. "How can I cement our bond, Chancellor? I'll do anything— _anything_ you ask of me. I'll pledge myself to you for the rest of my life, if it means you can save her." He'd started to shiver by now; without thinking, he steadied himself by placing his flesh-hewn hand on one of Palpatine's knees. He couldn't possibly know how much that pleased him.

"I'd like to start by offering you some of myself. Would that be alright with you?" 

_"Yes!_ Yes, of course it would!" Anything the Chancellor had to offer him would be more than just 'alright', if it meant he could have a chance at building a family with his wife. She'd spoken to him recently about their baby's room on Naboo; about the paintings with which she wished to decorate it, and about the beautiful view outside the window. He imagined himself holding a tiny child up to that window; pictured the joy on his little one's face as he or she took in the water and the trees. Anakin had grown up with neither water nor trees.

"Good, Anakin. That's very good." At that, Palpatine finally took his hand away from his subject's head and pulled aside the flap on his robe. Anakin removed his own cold, trembling palm from his potential saviour's knee to allow him the space to do so; however, it nearly made him falter.

"I don't understand, Sir," said Anakin, as the elder man's fully erect penis was finally exposed. He looked between it and the Chancellor's face, clearly confused as to what he was supposed to do.

Replacing his hand atop the boy's head, "This is the first thing I'd like to give you, young one. There will be lots more to come— however, I think that this is a fine place to begin, don't you?"

Tentatively, Anakin moved to touch what had been presented to him. Palpatine removed his own hand from himself, and allowed the long-suffering Jedi to wrap the fingers of the hand he'd been born with around its base. He drew in a breath; allowed his eyes to close momentarily before looking down again, and smiling widely. 

"W-What should I do, Sir?" Anakin asked, because he truly wasn't sure.

"Use your mouth." 

Anakin had a divine mouth; the Chancellor had always thought so. Sometimes it pouted, sometimes it smiled— sometimes it twisted itself into an angry scowl. No matter what, though, it was always lovely. Truthfully, Palpatine had taken great pleasure in watching Anakin turn into a beautiful young man, and he had been waiting for just this kind of opportunity for a very long time.

The boy took a very deep breath, gulped again at that persistent lump in his throat, and nodded. Without another word, he began: He started by sealing his lips around the bottom of the head of his patron's cock; as he did that, he squeezed the shaft gently with his hand. Padmé sometimes did this for him; however, he quickly found that to think of intimacy with his wife did not serve him here. Still, he thought, it would more than make sense to emulate her in this particular situation... and so that was what he tried to do.

"Ah... _yes._ Excellent, Anakin; simply brilliant." Palpatine couldn't help but to writhe in his seat as the boy took him further and further into his mouth. Soon, his lips were all the way to the base of his erection, without so much as a gag or a retch. That impressed him; who'd have thought that this, of all things, would be among Anakin's many talents? 

The boy sucked hard, and when he did he was able to feel the Chancellor's tip pulse against his teeth. The taste of the old man was like nothing he'd ever experienced; it was salty and sweet all at once, with a hint of something that was almost like a raw piece of meat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he started to bob his head up and down as he knew he should, because although he understood that this was for the best, he still didn't especially want to look.

"Do it for her, Anakin— do it for Padmé," breathed Palpatine, who was struggling not to buck around too much at the sensation of his soon-to-be Apprentice's attention. By his own admission, he hadn't felt anything like this for quite some time; although he didn't want it to be over altogether too soon, he was finding it difficult to maintain his own composure. 

He must have made a sound; a sound which caused Anakin to pull open his lids, although he did not remove his mouth from the Chancellor. What he did do was look upward, straining his watery, cerulean eyes to see over Palpatine's robes and peer at his face. Was he doing a good job? He certainly hoped so— this was his chance at having what he'd always wanted; his opportunity to save the thing that meant the most to him in the entire galaxy. He might not have been experienced in this area, but as with everything else he'd ever tried to do, he wasn't going to accept that he might fail.

Anakin, this time, couldn't afford to fail.

Still looking reverently upward, he enthusiastically flicked his tongue across the very top of Palpatine's cock while continuing to clamp his lips tightly around its length. It had started to leak into the back of his throat by now, and as he went on, he could feel its twitching become more frequent and haphazard. He blinked, and although he wasn't aware of it himself, the sight of his fluttering eyelashes combined with his all-encompassing beauty propelled the Chancellor to an utterly dizzying height. The love-struck Jedi was so wondrously eager to please, he thought— what a lucky woman Padmé was, whether she realized it or not.

With a shout, the old man gripped that lovely mop of golden-blonde very tightly between his fingers, squeezing with no thought as to whether it might hurt. What did he care, really, if Anakin was hurt? He didn't restrain himself this time; as he thrust his hips upward, he could feel the head of his own cock force its way into his Jedi's throat, spilling its seed into him with abandon.

Anakin finally did gag; however, that only intensified the sensation as far as the Chancellor was concerned. He pushed his subject's head down until he exhausted himself entirely, making sure the young man had no choice but to swallow every last bit of what he had to give him. When he finally let go and allowed Anakin to pull back, he could not stop himself from grinning broadly at the sight of his sputtering.

"There," he said as he caught his own breath, feeling very satisfied with himself. "What did I tell you? _Such a good boy."_

Anakin didn't know quite how to feel— had he just taken the first step toward saving the person he loved most, or had he been taken advantage of? He couldn't tell; however, his inclination was, as always, to trust the Chancellor. The Jedi weren't going to help him, and Palpatine had always treated him kindly; seemed to recognize his abilities for what they were. The taste of what he'd just accepted lingered on the back of his tongue, although he tried his best to ignore it as he continued to gaze up at the man he hoped would be his saviour— Padmé's saviour. 

"Was that... adequate?" he asked, because he wanted more than anything to know whether or not he'd just set himself upon the correct path; the one that would lead him toward rescuing what he knew was his only chance at raising a family.

Palpatine laughed heartily as he tucked himself back away underneath his robes, sat up straight in his chair, and motioned for Anakin to rise to his feet. After taking a long moment to admire the immaculate form of the naked boy in just his boots, he assured him, "It was more than adequate, Anakin. I was right about you all along."

Wiping away a stray bit of the Chancellor that had dribbled out the side of his mouth, Anakin very tentatively smiled back. If he'd done well, then that might just mean Palpatine would show him more of what he needed to know. He was still frightened— terrified, in fact— but now, at least, he had a bit of hope; something he could hang onto. He no longer felt quite so alone in his predicament as he had before.

"Will you help me, then?" he asked auspiciously, hardly noticing the chill in the room the way he had before. 

"Yes— yes, I'll help you," said Palpatine, sitting back in his seat to bask in both Anakin's beauty and the euphoria which had been bestowed upon him by that sweet, talented mouth. "It won't be easy," he went on, "but I think that together you and I may just have what it takes to rescue that lovely wife of yours from her fate."

Tears began to well up in Anakin's eyes, but this time they were tears of joy. If Padmé could be saved, then she would be— he would stop at nothing; promise himself entirely to the Chancellor and his teachings, if that was what he had to do. "Thank you," he said. _"Thank you."_

Still smiling contentedly, Palpatine then instructed Anakin to dress himself once more, and go about his business. Everything, he assured the newly-optimistic young man, would be taken care of. 

He went on to watch with utterly perverse glee as his subject put his clothes back on, wondering just what else he could take from that enchanting body before it would finally be decimated by its owner's unyielding foolishness.


End file.
